Saturday, July 16, 2011

Day Twenty Four

I am not ok. I don't even know what ok looks like anymore. I don't remember what that even means. I'm just here. The world keeps moving but I do not. I keep breathing but everything is wrong. Everything is lacking. I keep expecting him to roll back into view, or crawl out from around the cabinet. The house seems too empty, too still.

I know he's better now. I know he finally beat the tumor, finally found peace. I am thankful it did not last long, that he did not have to endure months of treatment doomed to failure, that his illness struck him so quickly it took him before it could dampen his spirit. That he died at peace and in comfort. I am glad he died in our arms, surrounded by our love. I am glad I had the chance to tell him that over and over and over again before the end. We told him it was ok to go. I believe it was ok for him to go. I believe he heard us. I believe he knew how completely he was loved. I am not worried about James. James is fine, fine in a way I've never been. My little boy doesn't need grief, he doesn't need anything. He had all the love he could get.

So James is fine but we are not. We are left here with empty arms and damaged hearts, shadows of the people we were a month ago. There is much to take comfort in, and I do and will take comfort in many things- the profound impact James had on so many people among them. His happiness. How glad I am we were at home. But they cannot replace the part of my soul the rests with him. They cannot smile, laugh, and play peek a boo. They cannot be James.

There is much to do and we will do it. But for now it all seems impossible, even the smallest tasks feel that way. Everything is colored all wrong, everything is off center. The axis around which it all revolves is broken, ruined. I am trying, trying to keep moving. I suppose I will find a way. James did.

Thank all of you for everything, please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Many of you have expressed a desire to give to charity on James' behalf, a desire we share. We will distribute information as soon as possible.


  1. You are an amazing family.

    I hope and pray you can somehow feel the love pouring in from these pages. Your hearts will burn bright with his love forever and we are all better for knowing of James.


  2. My condolences to you. I can't imagine what you're going through. My one-year-old son is being treated for cancer at Texas Children's also but his prognosis is different. I will hold him a little closer. James seems to have been a great blessing to you. I pray you find comfort in that.

  3. You do not know me. I have followed your blog and have prayed for yall daily. I cannot know what you are going through. I know not what to say except that I care for you, though I don't know you. Longview, and the people at New Beginnings, will be praying for your whole family.

  4. Although I don't know you and just heard your story three days ago I weep as I read of your loss and can't imagine how you feel. I pray for you and James and will always be touched by your love for him and the beautiful spirit of your baby boy. I hope you find peace and comfort knowing that he is with Jesus and is protected and cared for and that you will see him again one day.

  5. Jamesie has touched my heart deeply in these last few days and my prayers have been lifted daily. I continue to pray now that the Lord will lift your family up and comfort you through this most difficult time. "This is what is means to be held, how it feels when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive. This is what it means to be loved, and to know that the Promise was when everything fell you'd be held" from Held, by Natalie Grant

  6. I'm so very, very sorry he had to go. What a precious boy, and what precious parents you are.

  7. I can't begin to fathom what you're going through. There is no consolation; there are no words. I know that you are not okay. How could you be? The world goes on as if nothing has happened, when your world has been completely shattered and devastated. Know that those of us in who know about James do care about him and about your family very, very much.

    I lost my adult son three years ago, and the grief overwhelmed me. Its waves kept rolling in to drown and consume me. How could I find the strength to return to work when I couldn't even get out of bed? There was no energy or will to go on until God stepped in with his amazing grace, something I had always heard about but didn't really believe until I saw the proof at work in my own crushing sorrow.

    I want you to know that James' life has made a difference in my perspective about a burden I carry. Two months ago I learned that my husband is dying of cancer. He doesn't know. We have no family for close friends, so I carry this burden alone. Until I read what you wrote, I felt such encompassing hopelessness. It was hard to listen to people's normal, happy family plans. Now I see that as young as you and Kara are, with so much life ahead of you, that you both wanted more than anything to change places with James, because you had lived life. You had learned to drive, traveled, gone to school, and married, while James hadn't yet learned to walk. You, Kara, and James have shown me that my husband and I have also lived our lives, and we've been fortunate to do so. You have also shown me how to walk through my husband's death, which I have feared with all of my heart and being. My husband and I will do it as you, Kara, and James did it, with courage and relying with faith on God's grace, presence, and promises.

    I am praying for you and your family. May God's grace be sufficient and may his blessings of strength, peace, and comfort pour out upon you.

  8. Prayers for comfort for you, your husband and your family...

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  10. Dear family of James -
    My deepest condolences and fellow sorrow for you both.....As Christians, we share the sorrow with you, our hearts hurt for you, and our prayers spill out on your behalf....asking for the blessing of merciful rest of soul in moments when every part of you says "It should not be like this.", because it shouldn't. But you will one day be with little James man!

    Praying for the sweet bending down, the hovering, the stooping low of our Heavenly Father to wrap you in His deepest comfort of grace.

    2 Corinthians 1:3-7 ~ 1 Corinthians 15

  11. My heart breaks for both of you. I am so glad that you were able to be with him, and hold him until he peacefully went home. My prayers are with you and your entire family. Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

  12. I am so sorry for your loss, sorry that you didn't have years to spend with your sweet little boy. I lost my sweet boy 2 years ago and the only condolence I can offer is that it doesn't get better, it just gets easier.
    Sending you hugs.

  13. I am so sorry for your loss. What a beautiful child. Sending thoughts and prayers.